‘I guess I should get back,’ she said, tipping her head towards the door.
I nodded. ‘I will be out in a few minutes myself.’
As she opened the door, I almost called out, asked her to stay. Everything felt better and brighter when she was here, and as she closed the door behind her the room felt dull and cold again.
I had not thought about family responsibility once while she had been here, only about the show and her exquisite skin that I wanted to lie on top of and somehow melt into. Had that subconsciously been why I had agreed to trek out to her hometown tomorrow when I should have been relaxing, getting ready for that evening’s performance? Did I think I was in with a chance of kissing her again? That was hardly going to happen in broad daylight, was it, and we were not even focusing on the tango this time, although the rumba was definitely almost as sexy.
I got up from my seat, took a deep breath, put the anxiety about my father’s health to the back of my mind and flung open the door. This was my night as much as it was everyone else’s, and I deserved to revel in it, no matter what was going on back in Italy.
CHAPTER THIRTEENLira
I arrived at the studio early the next morning, mainly to avoid the chaos the house was in. Mum and Dad were off on their luxurious-sounding cruise the following day, and there were flung-open suitcases and copious amounts of washing strewn across every surface, and my mum was in one of her agitated moods. I’d learned over the years that it was best to stay out of her way completely at such times.
It felt good to be back in the familiarity of the studio, where I felt like my normal self again and was instantly reassured that everything was running smoothly, despite it no longer being my only priority. I did a quick stock take, cashed up from the day before and ran through the bookings for the following week. The stand-in teachers had done a great job of keeping things ticking over for the last fewdays, but there were little details that needed straightening out; bits of tidying they either hadn’t noticed needed doing or hadn’t had time to do. And although I’d been keeping on top of my emails, there were still a plethora of new ones to reply to: enquiries about private lessons, mainly, as well as people wanting to join the waiting list for the kids’ classes. I’d have a week’s reprieve now that the London performances were about to start – I could work in the studio during the day and head to the theatre for late afternoon, just employing additional teachers for an hour or so at the end of each day if I needed to.
Minutes before I was about to start my first lesson of the day, I got a strange text from Mum, asking when I had a break today because she needed to talk to me. I presumed it was just about the plans for while they were away, but whatever it was, her tone felt off.
I told myself it was probably because she was still in the middle of packing and I punched back a message.
I’ll be free at 12.
My second lesson of the day was with one of my favourite clients, Adrian. He was a high-flying city banker who had always wanted to learn the waltz, and he’d come up with a plan to surprise his wife – who was a keen dancer herself – on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. An eager student, Adrian picked up the steps relatively easily, even if his delivery needed a little – okay, a ton of – work.
‘That was brilliant, Adrian. Your best yet,’ I said, running over to turn off the music.
Adrian beamed at me, sweat dripping down his face. He’d definitely got fitter since we’d been having our lessons, and apparently he’d dropped two whole collar sizes.
‘I’ve got the best teacher. How could I not improve?’ he said, taking a tissue out of his trouser pocket and wiping his face with it. ‘Right, I’d better get back to my desk before anyone notices I’ve taken a two-hour lunch,’ he said, grimacing.
I laughed. He worked from home a couple of days a week, which, apparently, had revolutionized his life. He now had no qualms about slacking off for an hour or two during the day – and if he made up the time and still got the job done, who cared?
I thought, perhaps recently, I’d come to the same conclusion myself. I’d always felt like I needed to be involved in every aspect of the studio, making it my business to check and double-check everybody else’s work, because it wasmyresponsibility to make sure everything was running smoothly. But since performing had come back into my life, and I’d been sneaking off myself when I needed to, I’d realized that I didn’t need to micro-manage everything. The other teachers had coped perfectly well without me and, sure, there might be the odd dirty mug littered around the place, and the bins might not have been emptied for a couple of days, but nothing terrible had happened.
The studio hadn’t fallen apart without me.
‘Let’s book your next session in,’ I said, heading for the reception desk and my computer. ‘Not long until your anniversary party!’
‘Don’t!’ said Adrian, leaning on the counter while I checked my diary. ‘I’m beginning to think this was all a really bad idea.’
I gave him a scolding look. ‘Your wife is going to be blown away when she sees what you can do. It’s just nerves getting the better of you. I one-hundred-percent believe you can pull this off and make your wife’s jaw drop in amazement.’
‘God, I hope so,’ said Adrian.
Behind him, the door opened and I looked up, surprised to see several members of my family piling into the studio – Mum, Dad and a pissed-off-looking Sedi. Strange. I really hoped they weren’t planning to stay long because Gabriele was coming at one, and I needed them all to be out of here before he arrived.
‘Hi, guys,’ I said, wondering if I looked as confused as I felt. I could count the number of times all three of them had been in the studio at the same time on one hand.
I quickly booked Adrian in and told him I’d see him soon. Mum turned on the charm, as she did so brilliantly, asking him how long he’d been dancing and how wonderful that he wanted to surprise his wife. Adrian seemed enamoured with her on the spot, just like everyone was when she was at her most sociable. I only hoped thisindicated she was in a good mood – Mum’s bad ones were not to be messed with.
The bell above the door jangled as Adrian left and I came out from behind the desk. Sedi was already slumped in one of the armchairs looking fed up. Mum was casting her eagle eye over the studio, no doubt ensuring that I was keeping the place clean enough for her exceptionally high standards.
‘I wasn’t expecting to see all of you,’ I said, glancing at Dad.
If they were so stressed about packing, had theybothneeded to come? Maybe they just wanted to run through arrangements for when they were away on the cruise. Perhaps Sedi had volunteered to help out after all. I glanced at her – she didn’t exactly look happy to be here, so that seemed unlikely.
‘We’re hoping you can explain this,’ said Mum, standing right in front of me with an angry expression replacing the warm one she’d given Adrian a few seconds ago.
She passed her phone to me ominously. I looked down at the screen and my stomach dropped. Fuck. It was a message from her Italian friend, Lucia, who ran a high-end dancewear boutique in St John’s Wood.
